


trussed exercise

by hallaburger



Series: The Shibari Log [2]
Category: Black Sails
Genre: Anal Sex, BDSM, Belts, Desk Sex, Dirty Talk, Dom/sub Play, Gags, Hair-pulling, Light Dom/sub, M/M, Praise Kink, Rimming, Rope Bondage, Shibari, Spanking, Under-negotiated Kink, not sure how "light" it is but, okay but seriously how the fuck many kinks, sort of, this should be a game
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-13
Updated: 2016-10-13
Packaged: 2018-08-22 04:51:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,933
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8273603
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hallaburger/pseuds/hallaburger
Summary: This is new, this is something he’s initiating, something that he’s set out to get. He wants it so badly, and he feels that James will rise to the occasion, but...what if he doesn’t? Here’s Silver, all trussed up like a Christmas turkey--what if Flint comes in and isn’t in the mood?
   No, he will be, John thinks, He’s cultivated this mood all day. It’ll go just as planned.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ElDiablito_SF](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ElDiablito_SF/gifts).



> jesus fuck that pun is awful, i apologize
> 
> Mom wanted desk bondage and discipline, so here it is! I have had a Very Shit Day and I needed this to kind of unravel my brain a little bit. it looks like this is turning into a bit of a collection, so if you have any additional prompts (the more detailed, the better), i'm definitely willing to consider them!
> 
> added the under-negotiated kink tag, because these boys have a pretty decent understanding of what they like, but I know I get the sense that maybe they haven't fully laid out their parameters beforehand. what's preparation anyway?

Three weeks have passed since the encounter in the barn, and John Silver is becoming a steadily larger pain in James Flint’s ass. Flint has cultivated a talent for knowing when Silver is needy, when he clearly wants something but won’t _say it_ , and lately, Silver has been the neediest little shit in the entire Atlantic Ocean. Of course, Silver has done all of this on purpose, simply because he knows Flint can tell. He wants him to know. He wants Flint foaming at the mouth, chomping at the bit, desperate for him.

They’re in the cabin with DeGroot and Joji, perusing charts and discussing future battle plans. The defense of Nassau is still forefront in everyone’s minds, and there’s no telling when the Royal Navy will make another attempt at taking the harbor. 

“I doubt they’ll go for the fort again,” Flint says. “It wastes time and shot, and they know that the structure of the walls belies the strength of the men behind them.”  


“Well why not use the harbor herself as defense?” DeGroot suggests.  


“Isn’t there a sandbar here?” Silver asks, deliberately pointing at a place on the chart, and knocking over a cup of rum in doing so. “Sorry, sorry! I’ve got it,” he says, mopping up the spill with a handkerchief. “See? No harm done, all better now!”  


Flint regards him with an icy look, and John can see the way his jaw twitches in irritation. Oh, he’s in for it, and that’s just what Silver wants. He’s been planning this since the barn, and with Joji’s assistance, he’s already made some preparations. Now it’s his turn to enact the pageantry, to work James into just the right mood. So far, so good. 

Later on in the day, as Flint is making the rounds to check the rigging and line and make sure everything is still in sound condition, Silver hobbles over to join him, the godawful thumping of his crutch against the deck heralding his arrival. To his credit, he’s gotten worlds better at using it. “How’s this going, then?” John asks with a smile. Flint rolls his eyes.

“If you’re deliberately trying to get under my skin, you’re succeeding,” Flint replies, tugging briefly on the line to see if it’s taut.   


John shrugs, but his grin doesn’t fade. “I am doing no such thing. I have changed nothing whatsoever about my behaviour, so if it is bothering you, then I’m afraid the issue lies solely with you.”

Flint doesn’t quite stifle the frustrated sigh that passes his lips. “You know, just because you’re quartermaster doesn’t exempt you from disciplinary measures should your captain deem them necessary,” he remarks.

John’s smile actually _grows_  at that, the little shit, and he winks at Flint. “Oh, I’m counting on that.” He starts away across the deck, but he’s only gone a few paces before he turns back. “Oh--I should probably mention, I’ve brought dinner to your cabin. Best eat it before it gets cold, though I don’t expect it to go cold for a while. I, ah...burnt it.” He catches sight of the flames in Flint’s eyes before he turns away again, fighting back his glee. 

Once the sun has set a few hours later, much of the crew has gone ashore to spend the night in the tavern or the brothel, leaving the ship quiet and still. DeGroot has detained Flint for a while on the pretense of needing assistance checking the ropes that stabilize the cannons. Silver has to say, DeGroot has proved himself indispensable--when he first approached the man in regards to his relationship with Flint, DeGroot had not only been unsurprised, he’d actually said that Flint had brought it up first, and that DeGroot only cared that they were happy, and that the _Walrus_  stayed afloat.

Meanwhile, Silver and Joji are hard at work in the cabin. Shortly after the barn tryst, they had gone in and drilled a small hole in either side of Flint’s desk, where they attached small iron rings the perfect size to pass through a few lengths of rope. Now, Silver is completely naked, bent over the desk, and Joji is busy securing his wrists to the ropes connected to the rings. 

“Where in the hell did you learn all this?” Silver asks as Joji works. He flexes his hand, making a fist and then spreading his fingers to test the tightness of the ropes. 

Joji shrugs, looping the end of the lead on John’s left wrist down through the ring on that side of the desk. “Picked up a few things in a Kyoto whorehouse. Got good at them.”

“I’ll say,” Silver replies. “Have you done this since being away from Japan?”  


Another shrug. “Hard to find the type. I prefer to do it the way you do, with a scene. Sometimes hard to find people who want that as well.”

“Fair deuce,” Silver concedes. Joji stands and Silver tests the tension on the other wrist, feeling satisfied that he won’t be able to move much. He can squirm all he likes, but he isn’t going anywhere. “Alright. Go let Mr. DeGroot know that I’m ready. He’ll know what to do.”  


Joji nods and leaves the cabin, careful to fill the doorway with his bulk before closing it behind him. As soon as his bootsteps have faded down the deck, Silver’s heart rate jacks up a few paces. This is new, this is something he’s initiating, something that he’s set out to get. He wants it so badly, and he feels that James will rise to the occasion, but...what if he doesn’t? Here’s Silver, all trussed up like a Christmas turkey--what if Flint comes in and isn’t in the mood?

 _No, he will be,_  John thinks, He’s cultivated this mood all day. It’ll go just as planned. 

A moment later, he hears more bootsteps approaching the cabin. This is it. Do or die. The door opens and Flint appears. For a second, he's a bit dumbfounded, and then his brain processes the sight before him. John can practically see the exact moment it happens, that light of recognition igniting behind those bottle-green eyes. Flint's jaw goes slack, and he turns to fumble with the lock on the door, making sure they're safe inside. In three strides, he's at the front of the desk with a handful of Silver's hair, tugging his head back so Silver's eyes are on him.

"What the fuck are you playing at?" James hisses.

John whimpers softly at the strain in his neck and struggles to break free of Flint's hold. "Nothing!" he protests. "Apparently my performance aboard this ship has been lacking."

James relinquishes his grip on John's hair, and instead leans forward until they're a breath apart. His fingers stroke over Silver's shoulders and the muscles of his arms, down to the ropes that circle his wrists. The ropework is less intricate this time, but it's no less beautiful on Silver's brown skin. "Indeed it has," James murmurs, his voice a feline purr in Silver's ear. "What do you say we work on improving your _performance?_ " 

John's eyes flutter shut and he rests his head against the desk as Flint moves around behind him. He squirms as he can feel the weight of James's presence there, even if he isn't touching him yet. He wants it so badly, wants those hands on him,  _in_ him. Flint is still for a long moment. Long enough that Silver squirms again, trying to crane his neck around to look at him. 

"God, your fucking ass is so _beautiful_ ," James breathes. 

"Then touch me, for fuck's sake!" 

James laughs at that, a slight puff of breath out through his nose. His lip curls. _Shit_. He tugs a clean kerchief out of his pocket, and Silver knows he's fucked. "I think we're going to try something a little different here," Flint says. He's got that dangerous tone in his voice that makes Silver's belly turn somersaults. "I'm going to put this in your mouth, and you're going to do your absolute best to make as little noise as possible. Is that clear?" 

Silver lets out a helpless little whine and nods. 

Flint fits the kerchief between John's teeth and ties it behind his head, then gives his dark curls a pat for good measure. "That's it. I know you can behave when you set your mind to it. Sometimes you just forget. And sometimes, it seems as though your forgetting is a bit more...deliberate." Flint shrugs off his coat, draping it over the captain's chair. Silver watches out of the corner of his eye as he rolls up his sleeves to the elbow. "Now. About your punishment."

Silver makes a questioning noise through the gag. 

"Yes, John, your punishment. You have been insubordinate all day, and what's worse is I know it was intentional," James elaborates. "I don't like having to punish you, but you leave me no choice. As this is your first offence, I won't be using the cat on you, but that doesn't mean I will be letting you off easy." Silver jumps, gasping through his nose as he feels James's calloused palm against the soft curve of his ass. "Ten spanks. We'll see where that takes us. How does that sound?" 

Silver manages a soft little noise of agreement, and nods his head against the desk. He closes his eyes. That hand hasn't moved yet. He wishes he could lean back into it, feel it press into the soft skin there, but the ropes hold him fast. 

_Crack!_

Silver yelps loudly through the fabric as Flint lands the first blow. The sound of his palm hitting Silver's flesh is like a pistol shot in a still room. Pain blooms beneath his skin and he whines as it prickles outward. 

"What did I say?" Flint reminds him. "Quiet, or I'm adding more."

Silver nods, shivering. The next spank lands, and Silver is gritting his teeth around the kerchief, trying most valiantly not to make a sound. Before he can recover, there's the third, and the fourth on the other cheek, and only then is he aware of his cock throbbing and hanging pendulous between his legs, hard and aching. As soon as he's noticed it, it seems Flint does, too--Silver can't help the cry that tears itself from his throat as Flint reaches between his legs and grabs a handful of Silver's bollocks. 

"What have we here?" Flint says, squeezing just enough to make Silver cry out again, which is barely at all. "Now, John, I've barely done anything there. Surely your balls can take more than that."

Silver shakes his head as best he can with it against the desk. "Come too soon," he tries to communicate through the cloth between his teeth. 

"Is that so?" Flint replies. "Well thank you for your honesty, John. For that, you've earned a reward. First, we must finish your punishment. I'll even let you choose. Six more spanks with my hand, or three with my belt?" 

Silver's cock is now weeping against Flint's hand. The thought of either of those makes his ass clench. Six with his hand--the benefit of that is that it's only his hand, but he's proven that even that way, he can be forceful. Three with the belt... It would be over sooner, and Silver trusts that Flint would not do him serious harm. The pain may be greater in the moment, but he knows Flint will take care of him. He knows he won't be broken. "Belt," he says. 

James nods. "Belt it is, then. Good choice. I'm proud of you, John." He unbuckles his wide leather belt and doubles it up, careful to hold onto the buckle. He smoothes his palm over the hot, pink skin of John's ass, soothing as much as he can. "You're going to take this so well for me, and then you'll get your reward. Are you ready?" 

Silver draws a deep breath. He nods and closes his eyes. 

The belt lands with a sharp sound, and all the breath is out of Silver's chest in an instant. His back bows, and his fists shake as they pull the ropes taut. 

"One," James says, grounding him and keeping him centered.

Again. John tries to make himself smaller, to squirm away, but he can't. He's still tied. 

"Two."

The belt comes down one more time, and before Silver can catch his breath, James's hand is on his cock again. "Three. Well done, John. You were so brave." 

If he weren't still reeling, and if he didn't have a gag in his mouth, John might shoot back with a comment about James not being his father, that he's a grown man. But right now, he can't form a coherent sentence, even in his head. He hears the belt fall to the floor. A second later, both of James's hands are on his red, sore ass, not applying pressure but just resting there, feeling the heat coming off his skin. "So beautiful, John," Flint breathes, and Silver can feel that breath tickling his skin. "I could paint portraits of your ass like this. I wish you could see how beautiful it looks. You have more than earned your reward."

Silver groans softly as he feels Flint's hands press, but then they're spreading him open and the groan becomes a needy little whimper. And that whimper becomes a long, high moan as Flint buries his face his John's ass. Silver can only breathe in hiccuped little gasps as he feels James's tongue sweep in broad, wet strokes against his hole, his beard rough against the sensitive skin. James points his tongue and prods John's entrance a few times between strokes, and after a moment, he carefully slides a finger in up to the first knuckle. Silver moans at that, too, his fingers gripping the ropes binding him, trying to anchor himself. Flint fucks him with his tongue and his finger for a few long minutes until Silver relaxes a little, then he adds a second finger. John whines, his toes curling against the wooden floor. "Please, please fuck me," he mumbles around the kerchief. "Please..."

"Do you think you're ready for that?" Flint asks, studying his face. 

Silver nods weakly. "Please."

"I've not got three in you yet," Flint warns him. "You're absolutely sure?"

Silver tries to stamp his foot like an impatient pony. 

Flint laughs softly at that. "Alright, as long as you're certain." He stands and undoes his trousers, kicking them off. He's been fully hard for a while now, Silver is sure of that. Flint spits in his hand and strokes John's cock a few times before spitting again and stroking himself. Silver breathes in through his nose, and once his lungs are full, Flint presses in. John has to remind himself not to tighten up--the first intrusion is always difficult for him, the curious blend of strange, foreign sensation and singing pleasure. If he focuses, he can relax and let his muscles go loose enough that Flint can fully seat himself in only one or two thrusts. Once Flint is in to the hilt, Silver allows himself to flutter on that thick cock, ginger curls pressed tight to his skin. Silver tightens and releases, savoring the sensation of being filled so well, and his brain swirls with the image of that. He imagines how beautiful this must look, how wide he must be spread right now, to have such a magnificent specimen so completely inside him. For a moment, his mind strays to the thought of what is to come, to the thought of Flint painting his insides with his release. No sooner has that picture appeared in his brain than John is shouting through gritted teeth, coming all over the floor beneath the desk. 

A hearty laugh sounds behind him, and he can feel the force of that laughter shaking through Flint's body. "I haven't even started to fuck you yet, and you're already finished?" he teases. "My poor boy, so strung out."

Flint grabs his hips in a firm grasp. Silver can tell, even through his post-orgasmic fog, that despite all his teasing, Flint won't last long, either. That thick cock spears him over and over, and each time his ass hits Flint's hips, he whimpers just a little with the pain. Flint's breathing heavily, and Silver can hear the soft little grunts that herald his impending orgasm. Flint wraps an arm under Silver's hips, holding him close, holding him possessively, and stills as his cock reaches deep, filling John's ass. Once it subsides, Flint groans as he pulls out. Sliver can feel the sticky slide of come slipping out of him. He wishes he could keep it inside forever, but Flint has fucked him loose and he's too worn out to clench. Flint kneels beside the desk, untying John's ropes from the rings. Once he's freed, James carefully peels him off the desk and gathers him in his arms. John is too boneless to resist, and lets James carry him across the room to the hanging cot. It takes some finagling, but James manages to get the coverlet tossed back, then sets John down before crawling in behind him. James peppers soft little kisses all over John's neck and shoulders, tucking him close to his body. John feels so safe and secure here--he never wants to leave. Never in a hundred years could he have imagined how much he would trust this man. 

**Author's Note:**

> (not the strongest ending but... it's an ending.)
> 
> truss me up like a christmas turkey in my [tumblr inbox](http://babystormpilot.tumblr.com/ask).


End file.
